


Do As I Say, Not As I Do

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [30]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Drugs, F/M, Flirting, Smoking, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: bellarke + " that one time she found him shirtless smoking a joint in the women’s bathroom of the faculty administration building"</p>
<p>Summary: Clarke is looking for a moment of rebellion, and Bellamy--her pain-in-the-ass co-worker at Ark Academy--and his joint prove to be just the thing she needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Clarke wiped furious tears from her cheeks, storming through the ostentatious and empty hallways of Ark Academy’s faculty administration building. Sometimes there were perks to having your best friend be the principal of the school you work at, but other times, like today, Clarke wishes that Wells was not her boss. 

She had simply suggested, for what felt like the tenth time, that maybe they weren’t the best school suited for Charlotte Barnard, given the amount of trouble she had caused last year (her carrying around a knife was the least worrisome, if one could believe that). For the good of the school, and the other students, Clarke had suggested, yet again, that maybe she shouldn’t be coming back when the new academic year started in a few weeks. 

Wells had just pursed his lips, narrowing his gaze as he said firmly, “We need to be there for students like Charlotte, not cast them out. We can help her. I know it. So she’s coming back, end of discussion.”

The righteous tone his voice carried had set her off, and she had snapped at him, probably in a way too familiar and intimate to use within the walls of their work, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. And he hadn’t been able to help himself when he had used the full weight of his position as principal to come down on her as their argument escalated, sounding more and more like his father to her.

Which of course was an insult she had lobbed at him immediately, only a little bit of regret seeping through her stubborn anger when she saw the hurt in his eyes at her accusation. She still left his office furious and eyes brimming with tears, though. He wasn’t going to budge and had told her to get out, because their friendship only gave her so much leeway. 

She knew he was right–he was her boss, and deserved to be treated with the same amount of distance and respect that she would any other principal. It didn’t change the way she burst into the women’s bathroom, however, anger still clutching at her throat as she struggled to calm herself.

If the frustration choking her hadn’t been keeping her words down, the sight of Bellamy Blake–Ark’s upper school history teacher and resident pain-in-her-ass–shirtless and leaning with his shoulder up against the opaque slightly cracked-open window, smoking a joint that was perched between two fingers, would have.

“What the hell?” Clarke finally croaked out, barely registering the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind her. 

Bellamy just stared at her, clearly weighing his options.

“The mens’ room doesn’t have a window,” he finally explained, raising the joint to his lips for another long moment. He flicked his dark gaze toward her once again, calculating, the corner of his mouth curving upwards when she didn’t move or yell.

Blinking away the last of the tears, Clarke took him in: tousled hair, overly confident expression, the carefree humor in his gaze, as if he was just waiting for her to call for campus security. She was known as a stickler for rules, both in regards to her students and her fellow teachers.

_Fuck it_ , she thought, walking up until she was standing right next to him, anger at Wells still coursing through her.  _A little rebellion never hurt anybody._ Wordlessly, she held out her hand for the joint. Bellamy just raised his eyebrows– _really, princess?_ he was no doubt thinking–but she just scowled at him until he passed it over.

“So the window I get,” she said, breaking the heavy silence that had filled the room as she had her turn with the joint. “I’d like to see you explain the violation in dress code.”

Bellamy gave her a lazy eye roll, tugging the joint from her, his large fingers brushing firmly over her own. His fingertips were calloused, rough, and the feel of them had her wondering what he did to make them that way, because it certainly wasn’t from grading papers.

“If you haven’t noticed, it’s hot as fuck out–though I suppose you wouldn’t have noticed, holed up in Granger as you are. The rest of us are sweating it out, and I mean that literally. My shirt was soaked through by lunchtime.”

“I don’t decide what buildings get air conditioning.”

“No, but your buddy Jaha does.”

Clarke scoffed, jerking the joint back and out of Bellamy’s reach, a bit pleased at the off-guard look on his face. “Like I have any control over him.”

Bellamy startled her but letting out a loud, barking laugh. Then he shifted so his entire back was leaning against the tiled wall, slouching in a way that had his hip level with hers. She felt the strange urge to lean in, press her waist into the sharp hipbone peeking out over the top of his low-slung jeans, plaster herself up against his warm side.  _It’s the joint_ , she thought blearily, even as she rocked forward on her toes.  _I’m just high._

Her hazy, half-hearted silent protests didn’t stop her, however, from slowly raising the joint to his lips, a challenge in her stare. His eyebrows shot up again, eyes dancing with amusement and something a little bit more intimate this time. Fingers hovering just millimeters away from his lips, she let him take a long drag, his eyes closing as the smoke filled his lungs. 

“Whatever you say, princess,” he said softly when he got his breath back.

“Don’t call me that,” she insisted softly. Out of habit only, because right now, it didn’t annoy her as much as it usually did. “And seriously, Wells can go–well, he can go fuck himself.”

“I thought  _you_  were already taking care of that.”

The joint fell from her fingers, and she jerked away from Bellamy, his words breaking through her haze.

“You are such an ass,” she spat, putting out the still-smoking joint with her heel before grabbing a paper towel and scooping it off the floor. Her anger was back, only momentarily diverted by her little bit of rebellion, and now was redirected at Bellamy.

“Clarke,” he said, his voice low and apologetic. 

When she looked up, face tense with fury, because how  _dare_  he imply that she was sleeping with Wells, she saw that he had straightened up, hands braced on the wall behind him. His thick arm muscles flexed as he pushed away from the wall – _don’t even go there_ , Clarke admonished herself–approaching her even as she stepped back.

“I was just teasing,” he offered quietly. “I’m sorry.”

She knew he was; she could read it in the open slope of his shoulders, the way his mouth parted pleadingly. Her earlier frustration with Wells mixed with the confusing desire to run her hands over the planes of Bellamy’s bare abdomen, up his hard chest, into his long curls made her jerk away again, though. 

Her voice hard as she replied, “Fuck you too, Bellamy.” 

Clarke whipped around, still angry and now also embarrassed at her childishness, and stormed back out of the bathroom, her hand slapping against the solid wood of the heavy door as she pushed it violently open.

She’d never be able to use that bathroom again, not with the image of Bellamy–shirtless, dazed, and a little bit sad under the dim fluorescent lights that glinted off the dark blue tile–stuck in her memory, a reminder that princesses can sometimes be the villain too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!
> 
> FYI: It's my policy that I don't do follow-ups on prompt fics, sorry!


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